


Paranormal

by emissaryarchitect



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: AU, Multi, Oneshot, SPOOKY AU TIME, happy halloween y'all i pushed this out in like 3 hours lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8405689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryarchitect/pseuds/emissaryarchitect
Summary: PARANORMAL | adj. | para-nor-mal | : very strange and not able to be explained by what scientists know about the natural world.A series of short one shots in commemoration of the spooky Halloween season! I churned these out real fast in honor of the best holiday of the year, and if you've got any spooky requests I'll be open until after Halloween. Happy spooking!!





	1. Canine

A clear, chilly morning was descending upon a local college, perspiration darkening the concrete and freezing the tips of the yellowing grass. Many students slipped on the frosted greenery, so they marched militaristically along the concrete sidewalks to the over-looming buildings numbered clinically for each class.

One student walked on the grass, his feet slipping here and there as he fought to stay upright while murmuring to himself.

“ _Wolf_ ,” Gil read aloud, nose stuck in his notebook as he read “any of several large carnivorous mammals of the genus _Canis_ , of the dog family _Canidae_ , especially _C. lupus_ , usually hunting in packs-” his foot slipped, and the book was flung from his hands. Apologizing hastily to the fellow student he had run into during his stagger, Gil scooped his book back up and continued reciting aloud. He was always weakest at memorization – flipping through his pages, he muttered “Where was I?”

A tight, snide voice replied matter-of-factly “ _Usually hunting in packs,_ formerly common throughout the Northern Hemisphere but now chiefly restricted to the more unpopulated parts of its range,” Prudith finished reciting the definition flawlessly, her book bag over her shoulder.

Per usual, Prudith had her hair tied back in a ponytail so tight you’d think her scalp hurt, with her predictable clothes, topped off with her holier-than-thou expression. She pushed her glasses up her nose primly. “Honestly, Marverde, you’re never going to pass your exams if you only cram in the morning.”

“I study at night, too,” he grumbled under his breath, brows knit worryingly – everyone else in class seemed to keep up perfectly, but he was struggling. If it wasn’t for his Tutor, Nevy, he would’ve failed the class by now.

Prudith rolled her eyes and stepped aside, cajoling Gil onto the sidewalk instead of wandering aimlessly on the precarious grass. He followed peripherally, eyes back to his notebook, mumbling again, and Prudith tapped his notebook.

“Also, you need to focus on the definitions that _matter_ – the Professor instructed that we needed the data from the textbook and one from the dictionary. How many do you have in there? Six?”

“Seven, actually,” he corrected with a wide smile, and she rubbed her temples, agitated.

“You’re never going to pass class at this rate,” she bemoaned “I don’t know why I try.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder, Prudith navigating her distracted peer through the crowded sidewalks and hallways as they neared their class. Gil continued to cram, but the words didn’t seem to stick – while he was distracted, a shrill bark snapped his attention from his studies and he gaped, backpedaling from the dog a fellow student was walking along the campus.

He backed into Prudith, who backed into another student, and the three of them fell together like a pile of human dominos. Prudith shrieked in anger, shoving Gil off her as she rose from the grass.

“Gil, what the hell?? You got grass stains on my shirt!”

“Sorry!” he apologized hastily, trying to scoop up his things he had dropped, again, “I was just- just startled is all-”

A new voice presented itself, then, causing both the infuriated Prudith and the anxious Gil to look up.

“Y-You’re scared of d-dogs.”

It was the student Prudith had toppled onto – he was dusting himself off, wearing a dark and scratchy looking hoodie. He straightened out his beanie, where locks of rebellious black hair slipped out, and he quirked a brow, unamused and cool. From where he was standing, he was looking down at Gil, sharp jawline shadowed with the sun behind him – his eyes seemed sharp, too, as they were narrowed down.

“Am I wr-wrong?”

“No, you’re right,” Gil admitted sheepishly “are you hurt at all anywhere, or-?”

“I’m f-fine,” he interrupted neutrally, tucking his hands into his pockets “watch wh-where you step.”

With that, he departed, and Gil scrambled to keep his things together as Prudith followed the student with her eyes until he turned the corner.

“At least he wasn’t mad,” Gil offered, but Prudith ignored him.

“I’ve never seen him here before.”

“Maybe he’s new?”

“Wearing _that_?” Prudith scoffed, picking grass off her shirt “he looked like an ape.”

“I thought he looked nice,” Gil replied in rebuttal, smiling to himself, and Prudith huffed.

“Yeah, well, _you_ would. Come on, let’s get to class before Professor Strategos chews us out.”

The dog barked again, and Gil jerked, dropping his things into the grass again. Instead of helping, Prudith had her fill of Gil’s clumsy antics, and walked off without him. He sighed sadly as he finally hugged his papers and folders to his chest – he looked up and stopped, realizing he didn’t remember which building the test was taking place in.

Wandering with a purpose, he took a shortcut through the grass to get to the building faster, trying to recall whether it was the C building or the D building – since the glass was slippery, no one would interrupt him as he walked, including students walking their dogs.

The structures were hard to look at, with the rising sun shining off the many windows and into Gil’s eyes – he shaded them as he read the building, and realized he was in the back area, that was usually restricted. He wasn’t nervous about being caught here – wouldn’t be the first time he got lost – but something stuck out to him.

Nearing the back exit of the C building, squatting a little as he gripped his slipping papers to his chest, something rumpled and plastic was heaped between a cooling unit and the wall. It was black, and rumpled – frost had melted off where the sun touched it, but most of it was still stiff with the cold.

His steps slowed. Something felt off – maybe it was garbage some students forgot to move?

It was raggedly torn in a few places. Maybe the bag had busted and there overnight until they could get new trash bags.

As Gil passed by the mysterious lump, a few papers from his notes finally slipped out of his grip. Sighing, he decided to take the time to grab them and stack them appropriately so he didn’t appear to be such a fool. He stooped down onto his hands and knees, gathering the papers – his definitions for wolves were scattered around the bag, and he plucked them from the ground before any moisture could set in.

As he picked one paper up, it revealed the stiff, white fingers of a cold hand sticking out from the bag.

He had thought, since the glass was slippery, no one would interrupt him as he walked, including students walking their dogs.

Since the glass was slippery, Gil was the first person to find the corpse shoved behind the C building, and he screamed in dismay, scrambling backwards.

His notes were still scattered around the body, and one was stirred up from his frantic kicking as he fell onto the grass – as professors looked out their windows and students peeked out of their classes to see what the problem of, Gil’s eyes automatically passed over the words as his heart roared in his ears, fingers curling into the sharp, cold grass.

“ _Wolf – definition #6 – to devour voraciously_.”

\--

Police interviewed him first, of course, since he had discovered the body – they had also interviewed the people he had spoken to beforehand, and many had been excused from classes for the next few days due to the investigation, including himself.

He sat, holding a mug of hot chocolate as the police officer tipped her hat with a hot sigh. “And that’s _all_ you saw? No one running away, nothing like that?”

“No,” he answered, staring into his drink. He hadn’t touched it – hadn’t the stomach for it.

“You _absolutely_ certain?”

Another officer sauntered up. “Stop prying, Bellarmina. The corpse is old, it’s still frozen at the core – someone dropped it off here last night, or even the night before.”

“The condition? How’d the kid die?”

“Not certain,” the officer hummed a little, walking a few feet away with the aforementioned Bellarmina, speaking a little quieter “it’s completely shredded, though. It’s either the smartest bear in the area or a real sicko.” The cops looked to each other, and then back over their shoulders at Gil, and finally turned around and walked away with a few murmurs.

Gil let these words wash over him, and swallowed the lump in his throat. He had been there when the officers had cut open the bag, revealing tattered, frozen flesh – he couldn’t make out the person’s face from all the blood, but he could see the eyes. They were ice-covered, and milky white.

He shook the memory from his mind and curled in on himself a little tighter. Surprisingly, Prudith walked up to him and sat with him on the sidewalk.

“…I suppose you have the time you need to study, now, since the Professor dismissed you for a few days and all.”

“Silver lining of finding a corpse,” he joked dryly, and he held the blanket to him tighter, his hands so tightly fisted they ached.

They were both silent, then – Prudith had collected his notes for him and set them down, and he flipped them shut. He wasn’t going to forget _one_ definition of “wolf” anytime soon, at least.

As they waited for the cops to let them leave, Gil watched as various students were brought forward and interviewed for information. One student was the one with the sharp eyes Prudith had fallen on earlier, and he seemed unsurprised by the events that unfolded.

“I bet he did it,” Prudith muttered.

Gil spun around, shocked. “What? Why do you say that?”

“This is a pretty tight-knit college… there’s not more than maybe two hundred students here. And the day you find the corpse, we meet this stranger? It smells of trouble.”

“You’re just crying wolf,” Gil sighed, frowning “you need not point fingers when you don’t know everything about the situation. Let the police take care of it.”

“I guess you’re right.” She rolled her head his direction. “…what are you going to do, now?”

“I’ll go home, and try to forget about today,” he replied sadly, setting the mug of hot chocolate down – it was cold and bitter now. “I didn’t really plan on today going like this.”

Eventually, the police released the students, and Gil returned home.

He tried to ignore the looming dread that clung to him like spider-webs, and tried to study – instead his mind was filled with the scene from earlier. He wished he hadn’t scrambled backwards like that, but the white-frosted eyes seemed to follow him in his mind, the cold fingers gripping at his throat.

Gil flipped through his notes idly where he sat next to his desk, looking at the material he ought to be studying, but anything he read ghosted through his mind. He managed to memorize a few more terms, but only a handful, and with heavy effort.

He relented and decided to go on a walk through the park. Though it was snowy, some people would still be around, and some socializing would do him some good.

However, when he arrived at the park, he decided it had been a terrible idea. The only people who really walked around during the chilly seasons were people walking their dogs, and ever since he had been attacked by one as a child, a bark could give Gil a heart attack.

The park itself seemed abysmal, too. The once green grass was yellowing, and the creak of cold chains on the swings gave even the playground a haunted feeling – the sounds of children or teenagers talking would’ve improved his mood a little, maybe, but there were only devoted pet owners.

He didn’t feel like going back home, though. So, he sat on a damp bench and felt the delicate warmth of the sun on the back of his neck. Perspiration gathered at his nose as he blinked drowsily at the park, trying to let the day’s events wash away from him.

“F-For hating d-dogs, you sure s-seem to find y-yourself in their vicinity.”

Gil blinked once, twice, and then snapped his head up – the unnamed student Prudith accused was standing above him wearily, looking equally curious as annoyed.

“O-Oh, you mean the park,” Gil stuttered in reply “I just wanted to be around people.”

The stranger frowned.

“I’m Gil, by the way.”

“Y-Yeah, you’re the one th-that f-found the corpse th-that’s got your college all up in a t-tizzy.”

 _My college?_ Gil thought, but didn’t comment. Instead, he replied somewhat bitterly “Yeah, I was kind of in the park to _avoid_ thinking about that, but sure, go ahead and talk about it.”

The stranger appeared surprised by his spiteful reply, but seemed all the more relaxed for it. “I’m Odin. S-Since you offered, d-do you kn-know anything about the c-corpse? G-Gossip isn’t w-worth shit.”

“Yeah,” Gil braided his fingers together as Odin sat down next to him on the bench, deciding to satiate some curiosity. “It was totally torn apart. Shredded. I couldn’t even make out its face… just the eyes…” He unbraided his fingers and rubbed his face. “The police say it’s either the world of a total sicko, or a bear.”

“Mnh. S-Sounds like a b-bad day.”

“Not my best morning,” Gil agreed sagely “or the corpse’s.”

Odin smiled, a crooked expression, as though he was trying to repress it. A betraying chuckle finally squeezed out, and he glanced to Gil idly. “H-Hey.” Gil glanced up. “I c-come to this park a l-lot. If you w-w-wanna find me, j-just to t-talk or wh-whatever - I’ll be here.”

He was somewhat flattered at the offer, but otherwise, confused. “Why do you say that-?”

“Gil!” a voice cut across the park, and he looked over to see his Tutor and honorary mother figure, Nevy, weaving around the creaking swings worriedly. “I heard about what happened,” she finally made it to the bench, clasping her hands to her heart “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Gil nodded “I was just talking to-” he turned with a hand flip, gesturing to the seat next to him, but it was empty. Odin had apparently fled in the moments it took Gil to register Nevy’s presence.

“Talking to who?” Nevy questioned. “I’m worried about you, Gil. Why not stay at my apartment tonight?”

Gil would have refused if Nevy hadn’t made it impossible, and he spent that night sleeping on her couch.

That night, he had dreams of cold hands and stiff black plastic, pulled thinly over frozen eyes.

\--

Per instructed by Nevy, he relaxed the next day. With all his nervous energy, he found himself circling around the park again, avoiding dog walkers and taking in the glum view. He was in better spirits, though. The events of the day before were faded, now, and he managed to ignore them as he looked at the brown mulch the fall leaves had been turning into.

“On-Only a week ago, th-they were orange.”

Gil was almost surprised, but it seemed Odin was a shadow of sorts. Turning, he was wearing something a little classier today – a leather jacket and navy shirt and jeans – but the beanie remained.

“I wasn’t looking for you, before you say anything,” Gil started with a laugh “but I’m glad you’re here. Have you heard anything else about the case?”

Odin shook his head lazily, pulling his beanie on a little tighter to cover the tips of his ears. “N-Nothing. The c-case is under l-lock and k-key.”

“I guess that’s for the best,” Gil tilted his head a little, cheeks flushed from the cold “it seems like police business, a real serious case – although I am still kinda curious, too.” He studied Odin’s face for a moment. “Say, its cold out. How about we go over to the coffee-shop around the bend? My treat.”

“An-Any reason why?” Odin questioned neutrally, and Gil shrugged.

“It’s never a bad idea to build bridges. Besides, I haven’t had breakfast, and I’ve got a lot of nervous energy.”

“Mn,” Odin kicked a rock with the toe of his shoe, and it buried itself in a pile of brown leaves. “M-Maybe not.”

“What kind of college student are you, to refuse free food?” Gil stated with another laugh, and Odin opened his mouth to say something in rebuttal, before thinking twice about it and begrudgingly following along.

The shop invited a warm, yellow glow from the pumpkin decorations and plastic orange leaves pinned to the corners. As they waited for their order, Gil asked, for small talk “Hey, what are you majoring in?”

“Wh-What about you? I h-heard you w-were studying w-wolves or something?”

“Not wolves specifically,” he replied, waving his hands at his chest “it’s for a class about animal studies… I kind of took it on the side, but, it’s pretty difficult. I’m terrible at memorization – the words never seem to stick.”

“H-Have you tr-tried highlighters?” Odin suggested, and as they received their orders, the conversation devolved from studies, to animals, and finally just to wolves. Odin was surprisingly well informed, and they tossed around the subject for a while before Gil had to go home.

Interestingly enough, before Gil could ask Odin about his major again, the man vanished from his presence once more.

\--

For the next few days, Gil found himself going to the park and meeting up with Odin – not for any particular purpose, other than to talk to someone. Nevy was a tutor for many students, and Prudith was more of an acquaintance rather than a friend – and anyone else he talked to just wanted details about the corpse.

He wondered why it was always the park where Odin sat. It didn’t seem plausible that he was homeless – maybe he just liked dogs?

With how he would laugh when Gil yelped in their proximity, it was more likely he enjoyed watching Gil squirm rather than petting the dogs themselves.

During one of these walks, as Gil clung behind Odin as a pet owner walked their huge Doberman, the dog’s ears perked, staring outwards. Following the dog’s gaze, there was a rabbit.

“Wow, you’d think it would be too cold for rabbits,” Gil noted aloud – but there was no response. Looking over, Odin’s eyes were locked on the creature as it flicked its ears and eventually bounded across the plot and into a wall of trees.

“You like rabbits?” Gil questioned as he relinquished his grip, and Odin scratched his chin awkwardly.

“Y-You might s-say so. Also,” he glanced to Gil “I h-heard cl-classes start back up t-tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Gil fiddled with the edge of his shirt “I’ve heard lots of students are going to be looking around the crime scene for fun… puts my stomach in knots,” he admitted “going back there, I mean.”

Odin nodded sympathetically, but offered no advice – instead he pointed to an oncoming pooch and laughed as Gil yelped once again, hiding behind Odin anxiously.

That night, Gil looked over his notes only once before going to bed. He dreamt of nothing and woke up with cold hands.

\--

“How barbaric,” Prudith sneered to the crowds of students skirting the crime scene – it had lasted all day, and now, with the sun setting, the hype still hadn’t settled. “don’t they know any respect?”

“We’re here for classes, not for some macabre sightseeing,” Gil agreed bitterly, the image of icy dead eyes and curled hands fresh again in his mind – he though instead of sharp dark eyes and Odin’s smug smile, and some of his dread receded a little, though it did nothing for the students who wouldn’t stop asking Gil about the corpse all day. The downside of living in a tight-knit community.

“Well, look at that,” Prudith nudged Gil a little, and he glanced up as he saw the two officers from earlier wandering around. They focused on Gil and approached, and the knot in his stomach twisted painfully.

“We’d like to talk to you again,” the male officer, Nanezgani, asked politely – Gil was ushered away from Prudith and to a more secluded area. While students were wandering to the crime scene, the officers asked Gil to sit near the agriculture area while they ushered some people away.

Gil sat with his bookbag, holding it on his lap. It was beginning to get colder and colder as the sun spent its last beams across the sky, oranges and violets bursting desperately across the horizon. He felt cold from the concrete seat he was sitting on, dampness soaking into his pants.

He fiddled with the strap as the sidewalk lights kicked on, though it was still dim – the agriculture plot was usually abandoned during the winter, left until early spring. Looking around, Gil could spot cigarette butts buried in the dirt among other litter.

Finally, Bellarmina returned. “Sorry to keep you waiting – boy, that sun sure does go down quick in winter, huh?”

Gil agreed with a nod. He wanted to be more relaxed, but there was something off-putting about the officer’s wide smile, the way she bared her teeth – Gil had a word for it, but he couldn’t recall the exact term with the shivers inching up and down his spine.

“About that corpse…” she pulled her hat off, and looked at it, as though inspecting it. “…why do _you_ think it was crammed back there?”

“Oh, well, uhm…” Gil scratched his forehead in thought. “If it was an animal attack, like the body suggests, with it being all torn, it wouldn’t be in a bag…” She didn’t reply, still looking at her hat. Gil anxiously continued “It was in a bag to be hidden and thrown away…”

“What else are bags used for?” Bellarmina questioned aloud, tracing the badge on her hat.

“I, uh – for… preserving things?”

“Right,” she agreed, sounding pleased. She held her hat up to her mouth. “But you know, usually people have a fridge for that sort of thing – but since we really didn’t have any space for the leftovers, we decided to keep it where no one looked until your scrawny ass decided to take a goddamn _detour_.”

Gil’s breathing hitched as she pulled the hat down, revealing sharp teeth in the dark.

“What – What’s going on here,” Gil stood up from the concrete bench he was sitting on, skirting the edge and walking backwards – directly in Nanezgani’s chest. Caws dug into his forearms, and he couldn’t move.

Bellarmina’s eyes seemed to widen apart, her skin turning a strange texture as she continued speaking. “It’s too bad you’re so noisy. I’d like to take my time, but it looks like we’ll have to be quick.” Her voice was deepening, rumbling into the depth of an idling engine. Her body contorted, her arms going stiff as her ribcage expanded, her calves thickening into haunches – the claws digging into his arms buried deeper, and Gil cried out as Officer Bellarmina’s form finally settled into one of a huge, bipedal hound.

What made it so entirely unnerving was that her eyes were still human. They rolled in their sockets as she exhaled a wet laugh, saliva dripping down her maw. The nearby light wasn’t doing Gil any favors, either – as Bellarmina stepped forward, he could track every muscle under her tight, leathery skin – the way her claws flashed, and how she trembled, like a wound spring under a terrible pressure, ready to leap at him in a blink.

Gil struggled, but Nanezgani’s grip was relentless.

“The real upside to this is that no one is going to miss a little socially awkward bookworm like yourself.”

Gil kicked. He hollered. He squirmed and spat and rolled his shoulders, yet the grip would not loosen – pain shot through his arms from the claws as Nanezgani held him upright.

“I w-wouldn’t s-say that.”

Without warning, Nanezgani was rammed to the ground, and Gil was flung out of his grip. His head smacked the ground sharply, and pain pooled through his forehead. He rolled over, eyes trying to focus – in the dark, he could only see large figures striking each other ferociously. He could hear guttural roars and snaps, and he was picked up by his leg at one point and tossed further away.

He was faintly aware of blood trickling down his forehead where he had smacked ground, and he could taste it when he opened his mouth, groaning. He couldn’t make out words, the world around him dizzying, spinning, and when he tried to stand upright he only teetered to the dirt once more.

He faded in and out of darkness. As he struggled, his eyes finally focused on Bellarmina’s bright, fiery eyes as her wolfish form howled, descending upon him.

Gil tried to roll, or kick backwards, or anything – but to no avail. She tore her claws across his chest, shredding his shirt and his flesh, and he screamed in agony when she lifted him by the claws she had buried inside him, holding him by the underside of his ribs.

Once again, she was tackled aside with a fierce roar, and Gil was flung to the ground. He barely spotted another beast, black, wearing headwear of sorts – a beanie?

He writhed where he was, blinking erratically, hands twisting into the ground – he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe? He couldn’t-

He heard a sharp yip and a few painful wails, before the sounds of galloping retreat. He lay there, blinking, the world spinning in and out of focus – before Odin’s face came into view.

His eyes were larger than Gil remembered, and his teeth were sharper – his face was smeared with blood.

“Sh-Shit. Fuck. G- _Goddamnit_ – l-listen, this is g-gonna fucking s- _suck_ but you’d better pull th-through, alright? C-Come on, s-sit up.” An arm encircled him behind the shoulders, yanking him upright clumsily. Gil’s head hung like a ragdoll, so Odin’s hand fumbled to hold it up with his palm. “Th-This is r-really gonna suck for y-you.”

Gil managed to retort dreamily “it doesn’t… suck _now_?”

Odin grinned, baring sharp teeth.

“N-Not as much as its ab-about to.”

With that, Gil’s eyes fluttered shut as cold teeth sunk into his throat.

\--

Prudith thought that after the attack, Gil would’ve been plain traumatized – however, he seemed to recover in record time.

He was no better in his studies, but he seemed more assured. The only reason you could tell he was ever attacked was because of the silvery scars on his throat.

She straightened her notes idly. “Are you staying for studying?”

“No,” Gil pulled on his scarf, folding it around his throat snugly “I’m going out…”

“With your boyfriend, the mutt?”

“He’s not a mutt! He’s just-”

“Grungy? Smelly? Has the fashion sense of a literal wild animal?”

“S-Standing right b-behind you?” Odin added, stepping forward with an arched brow and an unamused expression.

Prudith sputtered, backing up with her files in her hand. “Holy – wear a _bell_ or something!”

“Nah. G-Gil, you ready?” Odin stepped forward, reaching out and tracing his fingertips down Gil’s wrists to his palms. Gil flushed, dipping his head down with a sheepish smile.

“Yes, I’m all packed.”

Prudith slipped her things into her bag. “You two going on a trip for the weekend?”

Odin smiled, a long-toothed grin; his eyes glinted strangely in the light of the classroom. He reached up with his other hand, and slipped it behind Gil’s neck, pulling him a little closer.

“H-Hunting trip. Wish us l-luck.”

They both walked out the door, talking to each other softly – Prudith rolled her eyes. From the door, she could see a student passing by with their dog, and Gil only laughed softly as he passed it.

Prudith should have been thinking about the terms to memorize, or the strange boyfriend her classmate had gained, or even the bizarre disappearance of two well-known officers – instead, her thoughts wandered to something much more idle.

“That’s weird. When did that guy get over his fear of dogs?”


	2. Specter

“You’re new,” the student had told Odin, face a blob and voice unremarkable “so I’ll tell you a pro tip – don’t go up to the roof. It’s haunted.”

Due to debt related reasons, Odin and his siblings had to sell the house their parents left them and move into a much smaller, much cheaper house out in the middle of nowhere – a sleepy ruin of a town, where buildings from nearly a century ago still clung like moss to the edges of town, unrelenting.

The one high school was old as sin, and it had apparently been rebuilt so many times no one honestly knew how old it was. Ghost stories were common around healthy schools, just as local lore, but this school seemed to revolve around them.

_Don’t go in that bathroom, its haunted! – Don’t use that basketball hoop, it’s haunted! – Don’t go up to the roof, it’s haunted!_

By the time Odin was halfway through his first day, he was already sick of all the ground rules the other students had about what was or what wasn’t haunted.

Odin asked the student before him “Wh-Why should I b-believe you?”

The student put his hands up. “If you go up there, the roof’s door will be locked, and a voice will ask you to tell it a story. If you don’t tell a good enough story, you get killed, its happened before – I swear!”

“Wh-What happens if you t-tell a good st-story, then?”

The student shrugged, then, and Odin called bullshit.

He was on his way up to the roof for a smoke. It was the easiest way, for most schools, but he had been stopped every ten seconds by another student warning him not to go up there.

For the most part, he didn’t care. As he stepped up the metal gridded stairs, he fumbled for his box of cigarettes anxiously – making it to the door, he jiggled the handle. Locked.

There wasn’t anyone coming up here, at least, so he sat down and left his fingers curl around the smooth surface of his lighter. As his thumb flicked it, watching the sparks sputter, he froze.

A voice came from the other side of the roof door. It was brittle as the frost across dead winter leaves, and lilting as a spider-web caught on an autumn wind.

“Tell me a story.”

The words slipped through his mind like an eel, squirming through his thoughts – Odin dropped the lighter, swallowing hard. Someone was playing a joke on him. Someone was trying to prank him; it was probably a school-wide thing to try and convince him this place was haunted, just to make a fool of their newest student – his fingers clumsily knocked his lighter around before he picked it back up.

“Do you not have a story for me?”

“I – uh,” in his experience, it was better to be safe than sorry, so Odin replied somewhat anxiously “Y-Yeah, I’ve got a st-story.”

He recalled aloud the time when his dad was walking to work, and he stopped, waiting for cars to pass. Next to him, also waiting, was a woman with black, stringy hair, and a damp dress. The dress clung to her frame, and her face was concealed by her hair – she looked like she had gotten caught in the recent showers that passed over recently.

His father thought to himself _that might be the case, but the poor dear looks like a ghost!_

The girl replied aloud “How did you guess?” and vanished.

After recalling this story, Odin felt much calmer, much more assured that it was probably another student pranking him. The voice behind the door was silent, but after about a minute, she laughed.

“That is a good story. I like it. Spooky stories are the best, don’t you think?”

He jiggled the door handle again. It didn’t feel like someone was holding it shut, it felt locked – was she locked up there?

“Your prize.”

The door suddenly swung open, and the burst of winter cold washed over his body so suddenly that he put his arms over his face to shield himself – but as quickly as it opened, it shut, and Odin was left with frost in his hair and his cigarette extinguished.

Sitting on the floor in front of the door was a single poppy. It was very attractive, a richer red than orange, and the petals were soft and delicate as though woven from velvet. Odin plucked it up between his forefingers, and he jiggled the door again – locked.

Deciding that was enough for the day, he started his descent downstairs.

It was when he had made it to the ground floor that Odin realized it was the dead of winter.

Where could this poppy have grown?

\--

For the next few weeks, Odin had revisited the roof, but there was no voice, and the door would not open. He considered lock-picking it, but it was an old handle, and he didn’t want to break it and possibly reveal himself smoking.

So, he sat at the top of the stairs during lunch or when he was ditching, and he found it was unsatisfyingly cold being away from all the heaters downstairs. This school’s circulation through the ventilation was honestly awful – he sighed as the tips of his fingers ached from the cold, but he wasn’t driven away.

As the seasons changed, from winter to spring, the stairs and the door to the roof began warming up again. One day he finally had the chance to take his jacket off without freezing to death, but he discovered he left his cigarettes at home.

Sighing, he thought about maybe trying to bum one from another student, but something stopped him.

“Tell me a story.”

He spun around and stared at the door. “Wha- Y-You again?”

“Yes. Do you have a story for me?”

“It’s b-been m- _months_ – wh-where’d you go, h-huh? G-Get tired of pl-playing pranks in the winter?” he jeered irritably.

“It was cold. I left. It’s warmer now. I came back. Do you have a story for me?” The question was spoken with an air of innocence, not a drop of ill intent – so Odin buckled again, but instead he told of the time his mother saw her reflection backwards in a mirror of an abandoned hotel.

“That’s not a story,” the voice chided “but I like spooky things, so, you get a pass.”

“G-Gonna give me an-another gift today?” he asked with a chuckle, and the voice went silent for a moment.

“Is there something you have in mind?”

“Yeah, a sm-smoke.”

The door opened once again, only for a split second – Odin thought he saw a handful of red hair and the fabric of a faded sundress, but it shut before he could register what he was seeing.

An ancient looking wooden pipe was at his feet, and though he tried, the door was still locked, and the voice had vanished once again.

\--

She was there every day after winter passed, and they spoke a little before Odin would recall a story to the voice on the roof. She sounded playful, and weary, but she was patient, and he much preferred her company than the judging eyes of his fellow students.

“You should be goofing around with other students,” she had said in her high, drifting voice “or out with a girlfriend. A ghost is no company for the living.”

Odin chuckled dryly, pipe in his teeth as he smoked. He felt like his dad with it, and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing. “Y-You seem alive enough t-to me.”

“What a nice thing to say…”

Her voice faded away, and Odin knew she was done talking for the day. At times, she would bid him goodbye to class, and others, she seemed to drift in and out of the conversation as though being pulled by a furious wind.

He dusted himself off, pocketing his pipe, and he thought about what story he could possibly tell tomorrow, before he realized with no small amount of surprise that she had never told him a story.

The next day, before the voice could speak, Odin announced to the locked door “T-Tell me a st-story.”

There was no reply for many long minutes, and Odin wondered if he has scared her away, before “You want to hear my story?”

“Y-Yeah – you’re al-always c-collecting stories, but y-you’ve never told m-me a story. So, sp-spill it.” He sat down, lit his pipe, and waited.

Even though it was nearing summer, the stairs seemed cold, and the air bit at his ears and fingers sadly.

“Once upon a time,” the voice recalled “there was a girl who wore poppies in her red hair, with laced socks and sundresses. She liked reading ghost stories and summertime. One day, there was a fire at her school, and she had been so busy reading that she realized the fire had blocked her nearest exit too late. Afraid, she ran up to the roof, where no one rescued her and the fires consumed her. She has been there ever since.”

Odin sat, his hands on his knees.

“Th-That wasn’t a sp-spooky story.”

“No,” the ghost agreed morosely “it’s a sad one.”

“…how d-did the f-fire start?”

“A teacher,” she replied in her unsure, wavering voice “he fell asleep in class grading and dropped his lit pipe on a stack of schoolwork…”

Odin’s stomach twisted as he plucked the pipe from his teeth. “W-Wait – th-then, this pipe-?”

The door swung open, and it did not shut. Odin stood, spinning around – there was no one he could see. Gingerly stepping out the door, onto the roof, there was not a single person. Pieces of trash that had been carried on the wind cluttered the corners of the roof, and as he walked around it, he could see buffed places on the wood, and some blackened parts of the brick – as though there had been a fire a long time ago.

He could see a good view of the town, but with how small everyone appeared to be from up above, a strange solitary feeling washed over him.

He finished smoking, pocketed the pipe, and stepped back downstairs, closing the door behind him.

As he passed by a fellow student, they quipped “Hey, were you just on the roof? I heard a girl burned to death up there in the fifties.”

“I kn-know,” he replied brusquely, and when he came home, both the pipe and the dried poppy had vanished.


	3. Thirst

“Are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

Ava pulled her hair back, tying the locks with a fine ribbon as she stepped down the descending stairs of her apartment. “I’m certain, Miss Ranunculae – if I see your cat, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“Please do,” the elderly woman pleaded softly “I haven’t seen my little Tuls in days, and he’s such a grumpy cat – not many would put him in a pound…”

Ava finally stepped onto the concrete of the side walk, freckled with blackened gum and stains. Her bookbag was over one shoulder, and she replied sweetly “Promise. Now I have to get to work!”

“I know working at the library is fun for you, but be safe coming home!” she called out one final time, and Ava rolled her eyes. Ranunculae was everyone’s grandma and worrywart, and she tried not to let her constant nitpicking and tidal waves of advice stagger Ava around too much.

Ava didn’t have the heart to tell the elderly woman that people’s pets had been going missing for a while, now. People suggested that there was someplace dangerous they fell into, or a sick felon in the area, or a sickness was spreading among the animals, or maybe even a coyote was running loose– but none of the suggestions have been finalized, as there was no proof as to where any of them went.

As she walked to work, Ava passed dozens of posters with people’s various pets on them – she frowned as she saw a few really cute animals. She hoped that they had been picked up by another county or something.

Finally making it to the library, Ava was plagued by cranky college students, overly excited children, and many people pleading if they could put up lost posters in the windows, to which Ava would always have to refuse, and instead pin them up to the front desk instead.

That night as she returned home, she was quick, as the darkness of the weathered streets seemed to nip at her ankles and cause little spikes of panic to settle down her back like snowflakes.

When she had returned to her apartment, Ranunculae gave her a picture of Tuls and asked her to print out some posters with his face on them, and Ava didn’t have the heart to refuse her or tell her about the many other missing animals.

The next day, ava tried to ignore the sad looks the other librarians were giving her as she printed them out – she knew she was a big softie, and too easily swayed, but what harm could it do to bring a little comfort to an elderly woman living alone?

She had made the posters look nice, too, all laminated – she held them in her arms sloppily when she walked home that evening, but there was a prick in the air she couldn’t identify. The usual slumber of the streets was awake, and holding its breath, waiting for something to pass.

Ava slipped the posters into her bookbag and looked around. The nearby alleyway was empty of scavenging animals, and their stirring might have brought her a little peace.

Instead, she spotted something strange. Something thick, and curled. It would’ve been in Ava’s better interest to ignore it and scurry home before being the victim of a late-night attack, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she inched over to the trash cans.

Half draped across a dumpster, hair fanned out behind her, was a girl. She had dark skin, and she was filled with constellations of freckles – she groaned a little, weakly, and Ava finally managed to squeak “Oh no! Miss, are you okay?”

When she was only provided with another groan, Ava took the girl by her arm and managed to carry her back to her apartment over her shoulders. She didn’t appear to be hurt – maybe hungover? Her clothes looked awful, smudged with garbage and torn in places, and she was cold to the touch.

As Ava inched up the stairs, Ranunculae peeked down and said aloud in horror “Ava, what’s going on?”

“I found this girl unconscious by the dumpsters,” she huffed, sweating from the effort of carrying her “I’m going to bring her inside – I think she might be hungover or sick.”

Finally entering he apartment, Ava managed to drape the girl on her bed. She was pretty, with a slender throat and a smooth profile. She had a beauty mark at the edge of her mouth, and her hair was so thickly curled, they were like the tresses of a princess.

Ava hoped she was okay. To be on the safe side, she pulled out her cellphone and started dialing the police – before the girl on her bed groaned “What’re you doin…?”

“Oh, you’re awake? I’m calling the police-”

“Don’t…”

Ava snapped her head up. “What? Why?”

“I just… need rest,” the girl insisted, and her eyes seemed so feverish and her voice was so urgent that Ava put her phone away and frowned.

“Are you gonna be alright? I can make you some tea,” she offered, but the girl only shook her head.

“Can I sleep here…?” she asked, voice velvety and eyes sharp and clear, and Ava nodded in agreement before realizing she had done so. The girl just seemed to delicate, and weak, so Ava called in to work saying she would be taking the next few days off, and she slept on her armchair in her room while the girl slept in her bed.

The next morning, the girl was completely buried in Ava’s bed, and she couldn’t get a peep out of her, the only evidence that someone was in there being her thick hair peeking out from the far edge of the blankets. Ava figured it must have been a hangover – closing the curtains, she decided to sit in her living-room and look over the posters she had printed.

She mapped out the best places to put them, periodically checking on her houseguest – she hoped the girl would regain her senses soon, or else Ava really _would_ call the cops. There was only so much patience she had, and taking care of black-out drunks was not on her list of priorities. The only reason she had helped this girl was because she was a girl in a dumpster, and that was no place for someone pretty and easily taken advantage of.

It was finally that night that the girl fully woke up, rising from the bed and rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Morning sunshine,” Ava announced with a dash of teasing, leaning in her doorway “you finally up?”

The girl blinked her wide eyes, almost like the eyes of a doe, with such thick lashes – “Where am I?”

“I found you in a dumpster last night, remember? I carried you to my apartment. You’ve been asleep all day – was it a hangover or something?”

The girl rubbed her temples with her fingers, biting the inside of her cheek anxiously. “I don’t remember… probably. And you just let me sleep here?”

“Well, yeah,” Ava replied with the slow tilt of her head “why wouldn’t I?”

“You didn’t like, call the cops on me or anything?” the girl questioned again, strangely bewildered.

“You asked me not to. Hey, your clothes are all messed up, so I put some of mine aside over there you can change into. Don’t worry about returning them or anything,” she mustered her most patient smile “I’ll walk you home after you’re all rested up. I’m Ava, by the way.”

“I’m Maggie,” the girl replied, smiling a little. She stared at Ava for a moment, her eyes tracking her movements in a strange way, before Ava stepped out so she could change.

When she exited her room, Ava decided that red probably wasn’t Maggie’s color, but she wouldn’t complain. “Thanks for letting me crash here for the night. I’ve got kind of an illness? I get really weak sometimes and pass out if I get hungry.”

“Oh,” Ava instantly got to her feet, heading to her stove “can I get you anything?” She felt a little bad for feeling so impatient earlier – she just rescued this girl’s skin, probably.

Maggie looked like she was about to reply, but her lips curled inward and she drew back a little, shaking her head. “It would just be better… if I got home.”

“You sure?”

Maggie nodded, running a hand through her hair, and Ava picked up her bookbag. “Okay.” Ava locked the door behind them and they set out. “Where do you live, anyway?”

“Near the forest,” she replied, rubbing her eyes again “sorry, that sounds vague, doesn’t it? Once we make it to a certain point I can go on by myself, so no worries – I just need supervision until that point,” she joked, and Ava smiled a little in reply, though it was uneasy.

Maggie moved with the fluidity of an animal, shoulders rolling as she spoke. There was a metallic quality to her voice Ava hadn’t noticed with the air conditioning of her house rumbling through the rooms, but it wasn’t unnerving – it felt almost musical.

They walked along the streets, lit up by passing cars and lights, and Maggie kept looking tempted to go join up with crowds of people wandering to parties, and it was then Ava realized what she meant by supervision. As Maggie traced another group of people wandering by, smelling thickly of alcohol and perfume, hooting loudly, Ava had to physically grab Maggie by her wrist.

“Come on, you gotta get home!”

“Yeah, I _know_ but – urgh,” Maggie ran her hands down her face “they look like they’re having so much fun!” Ava groaned and slapped a hand against her forehead.

“Just get home first, okay? And then you’re free to wander around with strangers all you like.”

Maggie snorted and crossed her arms behind her head, walking with a little more of a spring in her step. “Why do you have your bag with you if you’re not planning on going out, anyway?”

“Oh, I almost forgot – I’ve got posters here for my neighbor, its search posters for her cat.” Maggie went silent then, and Ava figured she must’ve lost a pet to the madness too, and she changed the subject. “Hey, are you feeling… okay? I mean, I found you half tucked in a dumpster covered in garbage…”

Maggie laughed aloud sharply “I’ve woken up covered in worse things than garbage, Ava.”

Ava flushed and walked faster.

Eventually they hit the outskirts of the city, and Ava felt increasingly unnerved. A few people were here and there, but they didn’t seem to be of a friendly disposition, and she walked closer to Maggie.

“Are we nearing your house?”

“Soon,” Maggie notified neutrally, unworried, and Ava wasn’t sure whether to trust her easy disposition. This was a girl she found in a dumpster, her instincts about the safety of places probably wasn’t to be trusted.

Sure enough, a group of about three burly looking men stepped in front of them, and Ava automatically stepped back.

“Lookie here,” one of them said roughly “two cute little girls.”

Bystanders fled the area, and Ava swallowed hard. These men were well known for starting trouble, apparently, and soon they were alone on the darkened street. Maggie laughed a little, scratching her chin.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, her voice’s metallic edge slicing the air “I was _starving_!”

Without warning, Maggie pounced upon the man that spoke, and Ava was knocked the ground by the movement – she heard screaming, and looking up, Maggie was on top of the man, and she threw her head back with a mouthful of meat, spattering blood over Ava’s feet and across the concrete.

Maggie’s eyes were pale, fluorescent – her throat was streaked with blood, and Ava found that apparently red _was_ her color, as strings of flesh hung from her mouth. Her lips split to show the white pith of her teeth in the dark, and she grinned, wider and wider as the men scrambled backwards.

She attacked each of the men, teeth sinking into flesh and little claws slicing across their skin. Ava couldn’t move as she watched Maggie devour their throats, and crack their chests open like walnuts, tearing out their hearts and eating them with such delight Ava tasted bile on her lips.

She managed to scramble back only a little bit, so that another spew of blood wouldn’t spatter her again, and the posters spilled out of her bag and onto the puddles of blood.

At the movement, Maggie’s eyes focused on her, and Ava’s breath stuck in her throat. Instead of attacking, Maggie smiled again, tilting her head slightly.

“Thanks for the help,” she stated aloud, rubbing her wrist along her chin and smudging the blood aside a little, and like a wild cat with prey, Maggie dragged the corpses into the dark, and Ava heard nothing more.

She sat there for several minutes, breathing shakily, the smell of copper her in nostrils and the blood on her socks cooling to an unpleasant dampness.

Trembling, Ava picked up the posters she had printed for her neighbor, and though they were laminated so the blood had not soaked in, she threw them away.

She knew exactly where those pets went, and she knew now for a fact that they would not be found.

 


	4. Dummy

“Are you kidding me?” Maggie bemoaned, putting a hand to her brow “this is ridiculous!”

“The boss said he wanted you to work on the decoration. That’s they budget you got,” Gev replied neutrally, flipping through a magazine behind the counter. Maggie was leaned against it, groaning.

“He gave me fifteen dollars. _Fifteen fucking dollars_ , Gev. How am I supposed to decorate and edge-lord fashion store like that? Stab a can of spray-paint to the wall??”

He snorted. “I’m sure they’d buy it.”

Sitting inside, Maggie watched customers for other clothing outlets wander down the hall of the mall – they didn’t open until tomorrow, and they needed the rest of the decorations up.

Maggie groaned into her hands. “Okay, I’ll – I’ll work with this. But if this looks shitty, I’m calling it trendy and he can just shove it.”

“We have the upmost faith in you,” Gev stated, waving a hand to her lazily. He didn’t really seem faithful, but she only glowered and stomped out with her fifteen dollars, and she was determined.

Hitting up all the thrift stores she could, Maggie bought the cheapest mannequins that no one would take, along with a sad amalgamation of broken holiday decorations. She could work with this. She was a super shopper, goddamnit!

Pinning up a few broken lights to the wall as Gev set up some mannequins and dressed them, he said aloud “Huh. Hey Magnolia? This one’s busted up real bad. It’s burned in places and it’s got etches.”

“I’ll decorate that one,” she said aloud, waving a hand before plucking another thumbtack from her mouth “you just work on the others.”

Eventually the shop was decorated enough to seem edgy and trendy if you were a preteen, and Maggie called that a win with the budget they had. Black brick walls were covered by band shirts and popular media icons, and little figurines of popular characters were lined up on the counter.

“So, where’s the messed up mannequin you were talking about?” Maggie wiped some sweat off her brow with the back of her wrist as Gev gestured to the back. Meandering around the clothes and cases of memorabilia, she fount it leaned against the wall.

It was burned in places, slightly melted, causing it to appear disproportionate and slender. The face was totally melted, and someone had etched a number into its front – Maggie figured there must’ve been five other mannequins that went with this one, but carving the number six into its front felt a little excessive.

Brushing it off, Maggie dressed the mannequin well, with gloves, boots, and the whole nine yards. She even clipped one of those recently trendy face masks across its mouth to cover the distorted face, and by the time she was done, no one could tell the difference between it and the others. For good riddance, she pulled a blue wig over the head, and it could pass as the protagonist of a cheap show on MTV.

Checking her wristwatch, it was time to lock up – Gev bid her a goodnight, she locked the door, and she thought of nothing but the store opening tomorrow.

\--

“What kind of vandalism is this?” Maggie blanched, staring at the mannequin.

It had been veritably untouched, except the front of the shirt had been burned open with a perfect circle, a halo of scorches around the number six.

“I thought I locked up! Unless,” she glanced to Gev and quirked a brow.

He put his hands up in defense. “I don’t have the time or the energy to be bitter enough about this job to cause that much trouble, Magnolia.”

Sighing, she changed the mannequin’s shirt, and she kept an eye on it throughout the day as customers wandered in and out, eyes wandering back to the blue wig.

For some reason, she got the feeling it was keeping an eye on her, too.

As she locked up that night, Maggie announced aloud “God, I really hate working with dummies. They’re like people duplicates, freaks me the fuck out.”

“Just be thankful we don’t work in the kid’s corner,” Gev reminded “unless you like the thought of clowns everywhere, all day _, all the time_.”

Maggie shuddered as she made sure to locked the door.

\--

“We don’t have enough shirts for this shit to keep up,” Maggie groaned. It was day five, and another shirt had been burned apart. Each time it was at the center of the chest – and since the store was so new they hadn’t gotten any security cameras up to catch the vandal. “I hope this doesn’t become a regular thing.”

“Not excited at all? Come on, we’ve got ourselves our own little mystery here,” Gev teased lightly “you could go around and tell people about it.”

“Or I could make _you_ do that during your lunch date and interrupt your date with Fira,” she suggested hotly, and Gev shoved his face deeper into his magazine.

However, as Maggie stepped up to the counter to grab a shirt from within, she spotted words seared into the top of the counter lightly, like ash streaks across the metal top.

_I don’t appreciate being called a dummy._

“Gev, call the trash guys. We need something trash compacted.”

“What- now?”

“Yes, _now_ ,” she insisted, backing away from the counter slowly “I don’t care if this is a prank or some demonic shit, I am not putting up with that thing in my store for another second.” She glanced to Gev sharply, and she snarled “What are you waiting for? _Call them!_ ”

He scrambled to her feet to get ahold of them, and Maggie watched with an air of annoyance and victory as the mannequin was carted out in full outfit. She watched its blue hair go around the bend and she exhaled in relief.

“What was that about?”

She wiped the counter clean of the words furiously. “I was just sick of the shirt problem. Might as well nip the problem at the bud.”

The rest of the day was uneventful – no one noticed the mannequin was gone, and she was glad of it. A weight was lifted from her, and she could be brighter and more optimistic to the customers, earning a thumbs-up from her boss and the admiration of other coworkers from the other outlets.

That night, she did one final sweep – just to make sure – and the she locked up, jiggling the handle for extra certainty, before heading home.

\--

As she unlocked the store, Gev at her heels, she yawned. She weaved past the hangers filled with overpriced clothes, the pop-vinyl figurines, the media related tees, past the counters and the desks, past the blue haired mannequin near the door-

Maggie froze.

She looked at Gev, who glanced from her to the mannequin.

“Didn’t we… get that thrown out yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Maggie squeaked.

“Maybe they grabbed the wrong one?”

“That’s the only mannequin we dressed with a blue wig,” she replied, a shrill quality in her voice betraying her usual cool exterior.

Coming closer to inspect it, Gev calling up the trash guys, Maggie noticed the shirt was burned open again, revealing the etches within.

However, instead of a number six, the number seven shone from within.


End file.
